


Turning the Tables

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [10]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, PWP, Phrack Fucking Friday, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack is teaching Phryne a lesson after she makes a faux pas, and Phryne manages to make him suffer in the most delicious way.





	Turning the Tables

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, this is late - Phrack Fucking Friday was yesterday, and how dare I. I say, do you want your porn or not? (Real talk, I'm on vacation and am posting this from a quiet corner, so please forgive any typos that I might have missed - I probably had to angle the screen so that my kids couldn't read it.) Enjoy! :D

“Jack, no! Don’t!” Phryne twisted and wiggled, trying to get away from his tickling fingers, her face flushed with breathless laughter.

“You earned this! I can’t believe you said that to Collins,” Jack laughed as he pursued her across the bed. “The poor lad will never be able to look me in the eye again.” He trapped her with his hips, his fingers running up her sides as she did her best to get away.

“I didn’t mean it that way, honestly!” She shrieked, grabbing at his wrists and lifting them high as she hooked her leg around his hip to roll him over. “I merely meant the noises you make when you’re cycling—it’s not my fault he took it to mean something else entirely.”

Jack hooted with laughter, going limp in her hold, his arms lying loosely against the pillows. “ _The noises I make when I’m cycling?_ Oh god, Phryne, that is _not_ what we thought you were talking about.”

“I know,” she groaned, giggling and leaning in to rest her head against Jack’s. “And I realized how he—and you—had taken it, but I couldn’t work out how to take it back!” Her grin grew as she realized the position they’d ended up in. She shifted, dropping her knees to either side of his hips as she straddled him. Leaning in, she kissed him, her mouth lingering against his. 

Breaking the kiss, she brushed her lips gently across his. “Though I have to admit, even I think of sex while you’re riding.”

Jack’s eyes opened to see a smirk on her red lips that likely matched the one he wore. When Collins had made his hasty excuses and practically run out of the parlor after her poorly planned remark, Jack had turned to Phryne, his eyes wide and his mouth open. She had turned her own twinkling gaze to him.

“Oops?” Her laughter had bubbled over, and Jack’s had followed, helpless and slightly scandalized. Before long, they’d been doubled over, leaning on each other and holding their bellies. “His _face_!” Her gasping comment had set them both off again.

When they’d recovered, he’d sought to take her to task using his first-hand knowledge of her ticklish spots, and she’d darted out of the parlor and up the stairs to her bedroom. He’d given pursuit, loving this playful side of her even as he’d chased her around and onto the bed in his determination to get revenge.

But now, as he felt the warm weight of her on his chest, her hands grasping his wrists and her knees hugging his hips, he found his mind wandering away from her recent transgression. 

“I rather like the noises _you_ make while _you’re_ riding, Miss Fisher,” he murmured, lifting his hips slightly to emphasize how interesting he found her current position. Phryne countered his lift, pressing down against his groin, and he felt himself harden in a rush. What this woman did to him! He’d always enjoyed sex, but with Phryne, it went beyond enjoyment to imperative; he had to have her as often as possible.

Phryne kissed him again, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. When she lifted her lips from his, both of them were breathing heavily.

“And what would you do if I were to ride you right now, inspector?” Phryne rocked against him and Jack held back a groan.

“I would help you out of that terribly restricting dress you’re wearing,” he smiled as she laughed, “and run my hands all over your body.”

Phryne kissed him lightly again, stretching against him, and he flexed his hands under hers. “Would you touch my breasts, Jack?” She breathed the question against his mouth.

“Oh yes,” he assured her. “With my hands and my mouth, and I’d slide my fingers between your legs, just to hear you call my name.” 

“And which part of you would you prefer I ride, inspector?” She kissed him again, her hips circling against his now.

“I would happily take you wherever you wanted to go, Miss Fisher,” he replied against her mouth. “I love the feel of your thighs squeezing my ears, but I’m always pleased to take you on a long,” he pulsed his hips against hers, “hard journey.”

Phryne laughed, short and breathless. He lifted his head to kiss her again, but she moved with him, keeping her mouth out of his reach. 

“Phryne?”

“What if I were to say, Jack,” she gave his name that sharp click at the end, and he felt it like a squeeze to his cock, “that I will ride you, but you can’t touch me?”

“I can’t… what?” Jack wasn’t sure what she meant. His mind was centered on the press of her body against his, and though she still held his hands trapped above his head, he could already feel them sliding over her skin, the sensation vivid. He flexed his hands beneath hers.

“If you,” Phryne said, her lips dipping to lay against his ear, so close that he could feel the movement of her breath, “can keep from touching me,” she took his earlobe between her teeth, and the small, sharp pain made him gasp aloud, “I will give you the ride of your life.” Her tongue came out to soothe the tiny hurt, and Jack’s breath caught in his throat.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured. His eyelids felt heavy, as if he needed to sleep, and yet every nerve in his body was alive and aware.

“I know,” she cooed, her tone conciliatory, “but you are so strong, my Jack.” She pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw. “Let me have this.” Raising her head, she met his gaze, her own heated and sincere.

Jack hesitated, and Phryne stilled over him. Jack flexed his hands beneath hers, wondering what this would mean.

 _Let me have this_ , she’d said, as if his inaction would be a gift to her. The idea of taking so much without giving anything back seemed terribly selfish. He prided himself in being an unselfish lover, and in giving her pleasure, he found his own magnified. When she let him worship her, driving her to orgasm over and over again, it was a powerful feeling.

“Jack?”

What would it be like to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention? He’d never considered it in his focus on her pleasure. If he couldn’t touch her, how could he please her? And if he didn’t please her, what use was he to her at all?

Jack blinked, inhaling a deep breath of air as that thought—one he’d never realized was lurking—registered in his conscious brain. His lips parted in stunned surprise. He knew, all the way to his core, that Phryne loved him; he didn’t have to perform to keep that love. He thought he’d long ago conquered any insecurity about being what she needed. Whether Phryne knew it or not, she was giving him a chance to exorcise a ghost he hadn’t even realized was haunting him.

Phryne shifted, her hands on his wrists loosening. “If you don’t want to—”

“All right.” Jack’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and it felt gravelly in his throat, as if from disuse. “What… what do you want me to do?”

Phryne bit her lip, her pleasure evident as her eyes searched his. Apparently finding what she sought, she squeezed his wrists lightly. “Keep these here,” she whispered. At his nod, she slid her hands down his arms to his chest, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She inhaled deeply and licked her lips, and Jack watched intently, his hands held immobile above his head. 

“Poor Jack—so many clothes,” Phryne murmured, her hands moving to undo his tie. She pulled the silk out from under his collar, extending her arm to drop it to the floor, and her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. “At least you’re not wearing your jacket. You might overheat.”

She glanced up at him when he didn’t respond, too mesmerized by the sound of her voice and the motions of her mouth to form words. “I love that you take your jacket off when you’re here, Jack,” she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “Your comfort in my home makes me very happy.”

Jack sucked in a breath as her tongue scribed tiny patterns against his collarbone. When had he begun shedding his jacket at Wardlow? He hadn’t even noticed, but it had become a habit. When they were in for any appreciable amount of time—for the evening or even just an afternoon working at her table—he didn’t hesitate to remove his social armor. Without fanfare, she’d made him feel that this was his home as much as it was hers. The realization loosened his shoulder muscles even as other areas tensed from her ministrations. Home. 

“You’re always so buttoned up,” she said, and Jack swallowed to hear the desire in her voice. She bit her lip, her fingers smoothing open first his waistcoat and then his shirt, pushing both aside to bare his chest. “And yet, there’s so much passion in you, underneath all of these layers.” She leaned in to press a kiss to the skin above his heart. “And a heart as deep as the Pacific Ocean.”

“Phryne…” He growled her name as she ran her tongue around his nipple, her hands tracing his stomach and ribs.

“You’re so beautiful, Jack,” she whispered, raking her teeth along the edge of his pectoral muscle.

“You’re the beautiful one,” he retorted, proud of even this semblance of his usual wit, “I believe you’ll find that I am ruggedly handsome.” 

Phryne lifted her head to meet his eyes, her smile wide. “You are rugged,” she said, her hand on his belly dipping below his waist to caress the mounds of his cock and balls. Jack hissed at the sensation, his hips surging upward helplessly. “A veritable mountain of a man.”

With a soft squeeze to his cock, she sat up again, her hips straddling his thighs. Reaching to one side, she began to undo the hooks that fastened her dress down one side seam. As it loosened, it sagged, giving Jack glimpses of her silky underthings. He lifted his head, craning his neck to watch. Phryne smirked at him as she pushed up on her knees and drew the dress up and over her head, dropping it to one side as she had his tie.

Jack licked his lips. She’d mussed her hair, and something about the dishevelment of those glossy black strands always struck him as intimate. For all her comments about how buttoned up he was, she was always immaculately put together. Seeing her in moments like this, where her own armor had been discarded, Jack’s love for her was nearly uncontainable.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her. Her smile grew, and she twisted to release the buckles on her shoes, the motion pushing her hips into Jack’s thighs. Her shoes fell to the floor, each making a satisfying _thunk_. She sat up again, eyeing Jack. With a soft sigh, she leaned forward, pushing her fingers into his hair to coax it out of its pomaded containment.

“I love it when your hair gets loose,” she said softly, her eyes on her work. 

Jack closed his eyes, enjoying the attention, and breathed in her scent. He wanted to put his arms around her. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” she chided, and he realized he’d made a move to turn thought into action. “Keep your hands up there.”

He groaned, his hands fisting as he laid them back against the pillows. “I want to touch you.” His voice was strained, and she smiled softly. 

“What would you do if you could touch me, Jack?” 

“I would slide my hands down your back, trying to find the edges between silk and skin.” He groaned as she laid her lips beneath his ear, her hands clenching in his hair. “I’d put my hands on your bottom with my fingers between your legs,” he continued, and heard her gasp softly before her lips trailed down his neck. “You’d squirm, trying to push my fingers closer to where you need them.” 

“You’d oblige me, wouldn’t you?” Her voice gusted across his chest, her lips and hands tracing every inch of his skin as she made her way down his body.

“Always,” Jack moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as she dipped her tongue into his navel while her fingers unfastened his trousers. He tensed, anticipating her touch on his aching flesh, but instead, he felt her unbuttoning his braces, her lips trailing along the edge where his skin disappeared under fabric. “Ffffff….” 

“What would you do now?” Her voice was muffled, the warmth of her breath sliding beneath the edge of his trousers like warm fingers, even as she moved to unbutton the other side. 

“I… I would put my hands in your hair, and… and...” Jack managed, as her hands slid under the small of his back to reach the final bracer buttons. He raised his hips, wanting to give her room to work, and his cock pressed into the softness of her breasts. His eyes opened, and he lifted his head to look down at her to find Phryne’s eyes on his face. She moved her chest side to side, brushing first one breast, then the other, over his cock, which strained against his undershorts at his open fly. “Oh god, Phryne,” he groaned.

She tucked her hands into the back of his trousers, pushing them down over the globes of his ass. The fabric constricted against his balls, and Jack sucked in a breath, his eyes closing again at the pinch of pleasure-pain.

Licking her lips, Phryne slid her hands around to pull his trousers and underwear down, gently baring him to the cooler air of the room. His cock strained upward to his belly, its reddened head stretching out of its jacket, and she let out a soft “ooh” of anticipation. She touched him, just one finger trailing from his head to his base, then curling to stroke his testicles with its back. 

Jack’s inarticulate “nnnngh” made her smile grow as she wrapped her hand around him, gently stroking up and down his length, using her palm in slow circles to spread the moisture leaking from his tip. Jack let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a low moan.

“You like that?” Phryne’s breath wisped along his length, chasing her hand.

“God, yes.” The words ground out of him as he tried to keep his hips from jerking toward her, wanting more—stronger touches, faster, possibly wetter. 

“Good.” Phryne pressed a kiss to his belly, just above his straining cock, and then the weight of her was abruptly gone. Jack opened bleary eyes just as she swung her leg over his hips again, this time with her back to him. The camiknickers she wore were of palest pink, hardly darker than her skin, and the back was cut in a deep vee to the waistband, exposing the dip of her spine before resuming their coverage of her bottom. He could see the lines of her garter belt underneath, its ivory straps visible under the lower edge of the covering garment.

She nestled her silk-covered bottom directly over his cock, and sent him a wicked glance over one shoulder as he groaned. Rotating her hips softly against him, she settled her weight where it would tease but not torture him. Then she turned her attention to his legs.

Her hands made paths of fire as she wrapped them around his thigh, stroking down to his knee and farther, to unlace his shoe and drop it to the floor. Tugging up the bottom of his trousers, she unfastened his sock garter and pulled his sock off, straightening to give him the full line of her back and arm as she dropped it to one side.

Resting her hands on his thighs, she looked back at Jack as she rocked her hips against him again before repeating the action on his other leg. Fiery strokes of her fingers, shoe to the floor with a _thud_ , sock removed, and up, straight-backed, her arm held out to the side to drop the sock. 

“There now,” she said, “that’s more comfortable, isn’t it, Jack?” She leaned forward to lie prone along his legs, shifting her hips from side to side as she stroked his cock with her silk-obscured pussy. 

“God, if I could only… I would wrap my hands around that perfect arse and use my thumbs on you to make you come,” he growled, and the impulse was so strong, he linked his fingers together and squeezed his knuckles white in an attempt to keep his hands still. 

Phryne looked back at him over her shoulder and tilted her hips so that he could see the damp spot that had formed across the buttons that held her knickers closed. Jack breathed deeply, wanting the scent of her arousal—sweeter than any perfume—in his lungs. When he had it, he dropped his head back to the pillows with a soft _thunk_. 

She rolled her hips against him as she sat up, and Jack groaned as the soft dampness of her mons cradled his cock; the hard edges of those tiny buttons adding another dimension to the sensation. Her hands on his thighs, Phryne moved backward, careful not to crush him as she tucked her hands in the sides of his trousers and undershorts and pushed them down his thighs and off, then dropped them to the side of the bed.

“Now, Jack,” she said, her voice satisfied, “let’s see what I’ve uncovered.” She swung off of him and knelt in the center of the bed with her stocking-covered knees brushing his side, her hands on her hips as she surveyed him. “God, look at you.” 

Phryne leaned forward, pushing his shirt and waistcoat farther open, her hands sliding over his shoulders and into his sleeves to squeeze his biceps, fingertips trailing softly across the curves of his arms as she withdrew them. Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. She swept her hands down his chest, her palms warm as they explored him, and he shivered in reaction. 

“So smooth,” she murmured, tracing the lines of his belly and down over his hips. He managed to keep himself still, though every nerve fought him for it. She cupped his hipbones, their angles evident with the stretch of his body, her thumbs gently following the line of muscle on each side of his belly down to where they met his thighs. His toes curled, and a moan escaped him, long and low.

Jack’s cock twitched in reaction to her nearness, though she didn’t touch it—her hands skimmed past to stroke his thighs, instead. He swallowed another groan, watching her face—she was rapt as she touched his legs, her fingers circling the caps of his knees and softly caressing the hollows behind them before examining the tactile differences between the bony fronts of his calves and their muscular backs. Even his feet were not exempt from her explorations, each bone and rise of flesh catalogued and found beautiful, if her continual murmurs were to be believed.

Time seemed to stretch as with every touch, Jack’s arousal built until his cock lay so hard against his belly that it was almost painful, its deep red head flushed nearly purple and its protective hood fully retracted. The weight of her fingers against even the least sensitive parts of his flesh sent jolts of pleasure through him; his chest heaved with the effort of holding himself in check, and he watched her, noting how much pleasure she seemed to take in this. She did not do it with intent to torment, it was clear. She worked to bring them both pleasure, and he felt it in every pore.

There came a time, though, when even his iron will began to creak with strain. When she leaned forward to breathe softly across his skin just to watch it ripple with gooseflesh, he could stand it no longer.

“Phryne, please.” His voice, always low, rumbled like an earthquake in his chest, deep and resonant.

Her eyes, shining crystalline with the fervor of the acolyte, lifted to meet his.

“Too much, Jack?” Her tone was warm velvet that stroked him even as her fingers did.

“That depends on your intention, love,” he shifted, his hands opening and closing as if he pulled against invisible bonds. “If you want to take advantage of me to bring yourself pleasure, it had better be soon; if your aim is to watch me finish, it won’t take much more.”

“But I haven’t tasted you yet,” Phryne said, and she leaned over him, her silk-covered breasts stroking along his chest as she laid a hand against his jaw and covered his mouth with her own. Jack kissed her back, his mouth greedy as he drank her in. 

When her other hand wrapped itself around his cock, Jack’s neck arched backward, dragging his lips from hers as a groan was pulled from his chest. She smiled into his eyes, her soft “shhhh, it’s all right” a benediction as she stroked him with long, hard pulls.

“Phryne, I’m—”

“Let go, Jack,” she whispered. “Just let go, darling.”

“But you?” Jack’s teeth ground together as he tried to keep himself from orgasming; his world had shrunk to the circle of her fingers around his cock and the bright aquamarine of her eyes on his. He groaned as she added a twist to her manipulation of his flesh. “Phryne?”

“Come, Jack.” The words were barely audible, but they resonated within his head, a clear and ringing bell tone. “I want to watch you come apart.”

Jack’s eyes searched hers, and he could see her sincerity. She dropped another kiss to his lips, her tongue licking the roof of his mouth.

“Come for me,” her lips shaped the words against his mouth, her hand stroked and squeezed him, and Jack obeyed.

The orgasm pulsed through him, the pressure releasing in a rush from his groin as his muscles contracted, his feet moving against the sheets as his mouth opened and her name fell out, its vowels elongated, pulled all out of shape by his inability to control his tongue. White ropes of semen lashed hot across his belly, his cock rocking within the now loose grip of Phryne’s fingers. He watched her face as she turned to witness what she had wrought, and the wonder, satisfaction, and love he read there humbled him.

“Well done, Jack,” she murmured, looking back at his face, her hand stroking him again, more gently now.

“I love you,” he said, feeling his muscles release into lassitude.

If it was possible, Phryne’s expression warmed even more, a tenderness joining the other emotions in her eyes. “I love you too, my Jack.” 

Lifting his head, Jack kissed her, and she kissed him back, even as she continued to touch him. 

He unclasped his fingers, his hands dropping to her head to take up their accustomed position supporting the back of her skull. Their kiss was raw and adoring, and Jack felt himself beginning to harden again under her hand.

“May I make you come now?” He murmured the words against her lips, and felt her smile bloom.

“Oh, I’m not nearly finished with you yet, Jack Robinson,” she said, her mouth sipping at his as she spoke. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and get this—” she tugged at the collar of the shirt he still wore “—off.” She kissed him again, her tongue sliding familiarly into his mouth, before she pulled back just far enough to speak. “There is so much more I want to do. You might need something to hold on to.” She looked to the side of the bed. “Perhaps your tie?”

Jack’s cock jumped in her hand at the thought of what she would do with that tie, and Phryne laughed, clear and joyous. Smiling, she met his eyes again.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she whispered.

“With everything I am.” He replied, his face serious. 

Phryne kissed him again, a short, quick meeting of lips, before pulling away. 

“Now, you take that off, but don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” 

She slid off the bed, sauntering in her stockinged feet toward her bathroom, and Jack sat up. He watched her go, secure in the knowledge that she would come back, and enjoying the view. He unfastened his cufflinks and worked his way out of the layers of clothing that still covered his shoulders and arms, tossing each layer over her vanity stool. 

As she went through the doorway, Phryne shot a glance back at him over her shoulder. The wicked gleam in her eyes was captivating, and he felt freer in this moment than he had at any point in the months since they’d become lovers, as if he’d let go of some unrealized reservation. He’d thought before that he was all in, but this felt different. New and clean and pure. He couldn’t wait to explore it some more. 

Leaning over the side of the bed, he extracted a flannel from the bedside table, intending to mop up the worst of the mess on his belly. As he closed the drawer, he saw the tail end of his tie, crumpled on the floor. He felt the phantom clasp of Phryne’s hand around his cock, and he licked his lips, snagging the silk with two fingers to pull it up onto the bed. He rather thought they’d be needing it. 


End file.
